


min ros

by LoversAntiquities



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Marriage, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 18:16:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15515730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities
Summary: Castiel has lived for longer than he cares to think. Long enough to have seen the birth of civilization, the collapse of nations, the first creature to crawl from the ocean. Yet every second that he looks at Dean, for as long as they’ve known each other, has felt like the longest day of his life, from sunrise to set. Looking at him now, kneeling with his head bowed, a hand offered between them, Castiel could never want anything more, no matter if this was his final day.





	min ros

**Author's Note:**

> [Try reading along with the song!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wOhldah6kFo)

Castiel has lived for longer than he cares to think. Long enough to have seen the birth of civilization, the collapse of nations, the first creature to crawl from the ocean. Yet every second that he looks at Dean, for as long as they’ve known each other, has felt like the longest day of his life, from sunrise to set. Looking at him now, kneeling with his head bowed, a hand offered between them, Castiel could never want anything more, no matter if this was his final day.

“I give thee,” Dean says, slow, methodical, allowing Castiel to cut a thin line into the tender middle of his palm, “my heart, my body.” He stops to wince, but refuses to stop the incantation. “My soul is yours.”

A shiver runs through Castiel’s wings, the feathers fanning out at his back, eclipsing the diminishing sunlight. Blood pools in Dean’s hand, spilling over the sides, yet he refuses to close it, no matter how much it might hurt. Castiel places the knife aside and hands over a smaller, more deadly blade, forged from the melted remains of angelic weaponry into a smaller, more manageable form. With nimble fingers, Dean takes it and kisses Castiel’s palm, just before he repeats the same motion, slicing through flesh to reveal silvered blood; this, Castiel refuses to heal.

“I give thee,” Castiel repeats, his wings steadying, a faint glow emanating from between the feathers, “my heart, my body. My grace,” and he takes Dean’s bloodied hand in his own, merging their essences into one, blood mingling with grace, “is yours.”

The ritual doesn’t feel anything like Castiel expected—somehow, it’s more. Through their hands, Castiel can feel Dean’s soul merging with his grace, joining into a knot neither of them can see, but they can sense is there. Dean sucks in a breath, eyelids fluttering, and Castiel knows what he feels, knows how rapturous their coupling is, far beyond anything that sex and intimacy can provide. Castiel knows, because he can feel it too.

Kissing Dean is easy nowadays, done either in passing or with intent, the result of stolen glances and repressed desire, now set free to roam, to bask in the glory of love. Castiel draws Dean in with little coaxing, just as Dean threads their fingers together, letting soul and grace interlace even further. Entranced, Dean kisses him back, just a simple press of lips; he palms Castiel’s nape and opens his mouth, allows Castiel in—and Castiel takes.

Wings encircle Dean, urging him closer, practically into Castiel’s lap; here, Dean moans and squeezes Castiel’s hand tighter, almost crushingly so. “You got any vows?” he asks, pulling away enough to rest their foreheads together, sharing breaths.

Castiel shakes his head and chases it with a kiss. “Whatever I have to say to you, you already know.”

“Yeah, but.” Dean averts his eyes, shuffling; his hand slackens, just the slightest, and Castiel just grips him again, diverting his attention. “I wanna hear you say it. Your idea and all.”

“As I recall, you were the one who found the spell,” Castiel muses. Still, he urges Dean closer with his wings, cocooning him in warmth. “Until my dying breath, I’ll love you, and will continue to do so, until the universes ceases to be.” A smile, hidden in another kiss. “How is that?”

“Good,” Dean croaks, red-faced. “Good, that’s… Me too. You’re it for me, I just want you to know that. What we have… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to find again.”

“What we have is special,” Castiel echoes, cupping Dean’s cheek. Dean leans into him almost on instinct, and within their bond, Castiel feels a pulse, adoration rushing through him in waves, no doubt reverberating, flooding Dean as well. “What we have,” he says with half-lidded eyes, Dean’s lips on his, “is fated.”

“Don’t ever let go,” Dean sighs, pleased, if his smile is any indication. Castiel promises regardless, drawing their joined hands to his lips, blood and grace vanished. In joined hands, their bond thrives, fueled by devotion and adoration, a fire that refuses to die. “Because this?” And Dean kisses Castiel’s knuckles as well, eyes wet at the edges. “I never want anything else.”

  “I promise,” Castiel soothes, dragging Dean into another kiss. Elation courses through him, and Castiel nearly weeps, a feeling unlike anything else. In all of Castiel’s many years, never before has he felt so whole, like his heart finally fits in his chest. With Dean, he can do anything—with Dean’s love, he can live.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://tragidean.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/loversantiquity).


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